It's Not Me, It's You
by Rin and Miku Twins
Summary: It was a sickness, to begin with. Then, she started feeling weaker and weaker. Refused to eat, to stand, to smile. It was a pain in her chest, not her stomach, but her heart. It was shattering. And turning cold. (Rated T for violence and minor language.)


She was sick again.

Too many hours of staying in her damned room, having nothing better to do than to curse the countless days of feeling sick to her stomach. The pain in her chest was so great, she feared that it may kill her if she let herself sucumb to what _he _thought was sickness.

"You'll get better Clara, I promise." He had assured, planting a kiss on her cheek and leaving the ill-fated room. She desperately wanted to call out to him.

"Stay with me, please," she would have called out, but the hurt in her chest restricted her from speaking one bloody word.

The pain was destroying her. She could feel her heart shattering in her chest, the suffering worsening each wretched day. Her skin tone paled to a great extent, her touch fragile and weak. She couldn't stand, couldn't smile, couldn't even blink without agonising trouble.

She overheard the Doctor on the phone with an unknown caller the other day. He was talking to a man, lacking respect and dignity in his voice.

"She's sick. I fear it's depression." Is what Clara had caught from the call. _Damn him. He's acting like it's minor depression. Nothing more._

Clara also hadn't eaten in weeks, despite the Doctor bringing her food multiple times- until she simply refused it. She could feel herself getting skinnier.

"_That's one way to lose weight, Oswald,_" She had said to herself, although she wasn't that heavy to begin with.

On the occasional day, she could hear voices outside her room. Of course, her and the Doctor were supposed to be alone in the TARDIS- that's how it was before her 'sudden' sickness, wasn't it? To oppose that thought, the voices outside her room belonged to the Doctor, and a female voice Clara didn't recognize. She came to the conclusion that he was 'seeing' someone else.

Not that he was seeing Clara in the first place,

It still pained Clara to think he had moved on from her _that_ quickly, after all their apparent chemistry that they had on their adventures. He _had_ kissed her, after all. That's must mean something, right?

Well, at least that's what she thought. Of course she _knew_ he had kissed her, (more than once,) but he seemed to always avoid her lips.

Did they lack _that_ much connection?

She hated to think so. After every adventure together, she grew more affectionate towards him- holding his hand, hugging him, and importantly, trusting him. Clara wasn't the one to trust someone after a few days of knowing them, but she felt different towards him. _Why_?

"_Isn't it quite obvious?_" She had responded to herself. She loved him. She loved him so much.

Was he just a great actor at playing, "I love you too," or did he actually love her back? Most days, it was hard to tell. Most days, she played along. On one of their adventures, one woman had said he would hurt her. She simply shook it off. After all, how could he hurt her?

She now understood.

Tonight, Clara Oswald felt worse. Way worse than she ever had. The Doctor hadn't come into her room for the durance of the whole day, and it was nearing 11:00 PM. Surely he would, right?

"_He's a timelord. He has a great sense of time. He'll come, like he said he would- everyday._" Clara assured herself, but it sounded fake.

Like a fairytale.

But that's what her whole life was. Fake romance, especially.

Clara Oswald was lost in her fairytale thoughts as she drifted off into slumber.

At 12:00 AM, Clara awoke with a start. Something was tearing at her heart. She had a craving, a desire, a _bloodlust_.

Clara Oswald, for the first time in her life, wanted to kill.

She knew just the target to satisfy her murderous longing.

For the first time in weeks, Clara Oswald gained the strength to smile. The smile, she knew, wasn't fake- but wasn't happy.

It was insane, deranged, the smile of a sadist with a desire to _murder_.

She pulled herself out of the white-clothed bed, the smile still plastered on her face. Her fragile body hauled itself up to the corner of the room, where a knife, that was supposed to be used to slice up her food was conveniently placed. At least, convenient for her. Not so much for the victim that would soon have the very knife lodged in their stomach.

Clara laughed at that thought, her smile as wide as a sadistic smile could go.

She walked to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob, turning the knob with little force. The door didn't open.

Her smile was wiped off her face. "_The damn Doctor locked the door. He fears me now, is that it? What a gentleman."_

Powered by anger, she thrust the knife into the doorknob, wrenching the door open with a brutal force that certainly wasn't there before her sickness.

"_Now, to find him. It's 12:02 AM, shouldn't he be sleeping right now?_" She asked herself, plastering the smile right back on her face. She walked through a few halls, ignoring the defendant bleeps the TARDIS echoed in her head.

Upon seeing his room door, Clara strode up to it confidently and knocked 4 times. She smiled widely, waiting, but he never came to the door.

Angry, Clara used the same knife trick again on the doorknob, but it bounced back and she wrenched the knife into her own stomach. Coughing up fits of blood, she leaned back against the wall to catch her breath and regain her force.

She yelled out many curses to the TARDIS, who was clearly trying to defend the Doctor. She threw the knife at the doorknob this time, and it lodged itself in.

She smirked, and wrenched the door open.

Grabbing her lodged knife from the doorknob, she strode into the Doctor's room. He was strangely sleeping. Timelords don't usually sleep.

Clara noticed for one, the walls were white. Fortunately, that would make killing him a lot more entertaining. She also noticed she was bleeding a lot, but didn't feel anything.

Approaching him, she smiled widely.

"_Thank you for all the adventures. I loved you, Doctor, but the feeling was one-sided. Goodbye._" She said in an almost sing-song voice, and raised the knife above his head. Right before she swung it down, the Doctor jolted awake.

"Clara?" He asked, innocently. She stopped.

"_Doctor?_"

"Clara, what are you doing?" He asked worriedly, and his eyes scanned her, and then met her stomach. "You're bleeding!" He exclaimed, his eyes showing that he really did care. Clara lowered the knife, softness returning to her and her face returning to it's warm, kind state.

"Doctor... I..." She started, a tear dripping down her face. His eyes went wide, and pulled her into a hug.

"Clara, I am _so_ sorry for not coming to see you. I promise, with all my hearts, I will never leave you like that, again." He stated, his eyes glowing with concern for her.

Clara cuddled up beside him and closed her eyes, still shocked she wasn't dying from her chest wound.

Suddenly, she gasped as even more blood spilled out of her wound. She weakly turned her face up to meet the Doctor's.

He had her own knife lodged in her stomach.

"I win, Clara." He said, grinning.


End file.
